Interlopers
by Lady Of The Semicolons
Summary: Miranda struggles with fitting in with the other Dragoons. Albert tells her that she isn't the only one.


Miranda wasn't taking life as a Dragoon well.

It had been one week since she had been chosen by the Spirit of the White Silver Dragon—one week had passed since her life had turned upside down and inside out.

She could feel her companions' gazes every time she was obligated to transform. She could tell what they were thinking, though they never mentioned it aloud: _She wasn't as good as Shana._

They all shied away from her as much as possible. It was impossible for them to avoid her, since she was the resident healer, after all, but she could tell they were often reluctant to do so.

And that thrice-damned swordsbitch Rose…

"Are you calling me incompetent?" snapped Miranda after Rose made a particularly snide comment about her decision-making in battle.

"I'm saying you could be more observant."

"Rose…" warned Dart, but Miranda stood up in fury, a mask of hatred etched on her face.

"You think I asked for this?" spat Miranda.

"I don't even know what the hell I'm doing here," muttered Miranda. She turned on her heel and walked away.

"Where do you think you're going?" demanded Rose.

Miranda looked back to glare one more time. "I'm fucking through. Finished. Goodbye. All that shit."

"Miranda!" Dart yelled, but she disappeared. He started forward, but he was held back by Albert.

"Let me handle this," Albert said quietly. "Stay here." Without waiting for Dart to reply, the king of Serdio followed the White Silver Dragoon.

Miranda could hear someone behind her. "I don't want to hear it," she said shortly.

Albert's voice was calm. "Miranda…"

Miranda was slightly taken aback; she wasn't expecting Albert to be the one following her. "You heard me, Albert. I've had enough."

"We need you, Miranda."

"Like hell you do."

"Even if you hadn't been chosen as a Dragoon, you still would have an obligation to travel with us, wouldn't you?"

The King of Serdio had a point, much to Miranda's ire. "I can't handle any more," she said with clenched teeth.

Albert sighed. "Rose can be—"

"Rose isn't the only one!" Miranda interjected angrily.

Albert closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Miranda…"

She snapped, "It's the truth. Don't pretend it isn't, Albert—I can see it plain as day. It'd be best for everyone involved if I left. I'm not wanted."

"That isn't true at all."

"That's enough already, Albert. I don't expect you to get it. "

Albert's voice softened. "No?"

"No," replied Miranda bitterly.

"You think I don't understand."

"You don't."

"I don't understand?" Miranda paused as she tried to place the emotion that surfaced in Albert's voice. "I don't _understand?" _She stared, dumbfounded, as he began to laugh hysterically. "I don't know how it feels to be consumed night and day about not being good enough, about being second best? To constantly feel like I'm being judged, to know that I'm nothing but a god-damned _replacement?" _His face was a mask of angry pain.

Miranda struggled to speak. "A, Albert?" she managed to croak. It was enough to snap Albert out of it; he blinked and shook his head repeatedly.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, "I shouldn't have lost my composure like that."

"I-I… i-it's okay…" she stammered. "I didn't—I mean—"

"You didn't know," Albert said. "It isn't your fault." He gave a faint reassuring smile, but Miranda could tell it was a bit forced.

"Albert…"

"Don't worry about it," the king told her, now back to his usual self. "But please… you aren't alone. And we do need you."

Miranda heaved a sigh. No longer possessed by the heat of anger, she recognized that her actions were foolish. Going back and apologizing would be a bitter pill to swallow, but she had no choice but to do it. If she left, she'd be letting Queen Theresa down, letting her country down… letting her new friends down. She nodded slowly.

"Alright." Together they began walking back towards camp. "…Albert?" she said hesitantly.

"What is it?"

There were a million things she wanted to say, and didn't know how to phrase any of them. "…I'll have your back," she said, feeling like it was a dumb thing to say.

"…Thank you, Miranda," Albert replied with a small smile.

That response made her feel better. She wasn't alone after all.


End file.
